Wavelength Discord
by Enochian Whisperer
Summary: Castiel has left Jimmy out of the blue, and Jimmy has grown extremely resentful of Castiel for dragging his body all over planet Earth. But even when swept up in a torrent of targeted attacks, his heart remains hardened. With the Winchesters gunning at his heels to safeguard him, will Jimmy Novak be convinced to let Castiel back in when the time comes to reclaim his vessel?
1. Prologue: Adam and Eve

**AU: **I'd probably say this takes place somewhere diverting from the storyline at Season 4 or 5, after Jimmy is abandoned once before by Castiel, but before he assumes the position of God and gets tangled up in the mess with the Leviathans.

**Rated T **for language in future chapters.

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(Lawrence, Kansas)

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Jimmy would have been overjoyed to discover he had free will again upon waking up, except for the fact that he felt unbelievably worn out. Going about with an angel behind the wheel wasn't exactly the joyride he had been hoping for when he had first given Castiel his consent. He felt like a limp noodle. He just didn't want to move. The only thing that compelled him to rise was an insatiable hunger churning in his stomach. But even rising wasn't easy. He felt like his insides were made of lead. Upon looking around, the religious man had no idea where he was. Sure, he had been conscious for bits of Castiel's journey, but mostly he had been suppressed in a comatose state. Forced slumber was the most restless of all.

Jimmy rubbed his face pensively. His stubble had gotten thicker. He was due for a shave pretty soon. And he felt uncomfortably unclean. He needed a shower too. But food first. Definitely food first. It was literally a matter of life or death.

He didn't have any idea why Castiel would suddenly abandon him, but his primary concern was getting some grub. Castiel had been generous(?) enough to abandon him privately, instead of making it a public event. Unless Castiel had been forcefully plucked from him. Jimmy stepped awkwardly out of the damp alley that he had woken up in and looked around looking obviously lost. His eyes spotted a diner across the street, down the road a little bit. The neon sign alone harmonized paradise. Jimmy soon discovered two things, however. One, it was unbearably hot out. Two, he didn't have any money. After having pat himself down, he shed his beige overcoat. His rubbed his upset stomach to soothe the ache. Either he'd have to steal, or eat food out of the trash. Neither of those options were very appealing, but he had to do something.

He spotted a stand nearby bearing fresh fruit. He lapped his coat over his left arm and headed down the street. His heart was beginning to skip a little. He was really going to do this. He had never stolen anything before in his life, so this was a first. The stand was coming up on his left side, and Jimmy discreetly eyed an apple. He had to be precise and swift. He stepped closer to the stand while maintaining his pace, and it seemed that God was on his side because at that moment, the stand owner had turned his back. Jimmy fished out the apple and with a movement of his arm, the coat slid down over his hand to hide the goods. He never stopped walking and he didn't look back. Only when he felt he was a safe distance did Jimmy tear into that apple like a starved beast. He didn't care about the stickiness on his face or the bits of skin that got between his teeth. That apple was the sweetest thing he had tasted in a long time. It was only when he finished the apple that he saw the irony in his situation. He remembered Adam and Eve.


	2. Dean: X and Y

Dean sipped away at his coffee. Black. No cream, no sugar. It tasted disgusting without the additives, but he needed the juice to wake up. The atmosphere was retro enough; the ebony '67 Chevrolet Impala sitting out front was complimentary to the vibes of the diner he was sitting in. Dean sometimes wished that he could have been alive to see more of the 70s, but he was grateful enough for the youth that he had as it was.

It was a bright and sunny day today in Lawrence, Kansas. The sky was spotted with some clouds, but otherwise it was a flawless sheet of blue. Dean leaned over the table a bit. The .45 caliber Colt concealed in his jacket felt heavy against his side. It felt completely natural for him to carry a gun on his person, but in places like this, he still couldn't help feeling dislocated. There was always a risk of getting caught armed. But it was a free country, right? Dean lived by the second amendment. And as cliché as it was, it was always better to be safe than sorry.

It seemed to be a twist of Fate that he should find himself once again in his hometown, a place forever infamous in his life as a was so special about Lawrence, anyway? Tucked nicely up in the northeast corner of Kansas, it was declared the sixth-largest city in Kansas, but nothing was particularly special about Lawrence. Nothing at all. The only reason that Lawrence was hailed was because it was the birthplace of two brothers who were destined to take creatures by the horns and fight impossible things that only imagination could conjure in the best of circumstances. These brothers were heroes in their own right, and unlike their Kryptonian Kansas-dwelling neighbor's feats, their work was secretive and shrouded in the dark, along with the impossible things that hid there. They were not widely praised or acknowledged, these two brothers. They were never given grandiose awards or celebrated. They were just faces in the crowd. But they didn't always go thankless, even when they believed they did.

What was Dean doing in Lawrence to begin with? Dean had just finished wrapping up a job involving a poltergeist. But as Fate would have it, a ghoul jumped into the mess too. The ghoul had been a scavenger, raiding a local cemetery, and the poltergeist had -by a stroke of narrow luck- shifted its focus from Dean to the sorry creature that was trying to eat its body fresh out of the coffin. The ghoul didn't stand much of a chance against the poltergeist, but it bought Dean enough time to torch the corpse.

Dean's face scrunched and he let out a sigh as the coffee cup clicked on the tabletop. He glanced out the sheet of window of the diner he was sitting in, and ran his eyes over his baby meticulously, if not almost sensually. That Chevy Impala was his most prized possession. Well, next to Sam of course. Nothing could trump family in value. But that car had been with him from the start. He was attached to it, and he had good reason to be sentimental over the sleek black beauty. That car had been nearly his entire life summed up in one body. That car had taken him everywhere, even when he wasn't old even to drive it. But not only that, that Impala had been customized by none other than himself and his younger brother. That car was complete with rattling air vent Legos and crammed army man. Most of all, however, that car was the reason Dean didn't have a place to call home. That Impala was as close to "home" as he would ever be. And Impalas weren't built to be stationary.

Dean pushed away his plate and paid up the bill. He was feeling generous today and decided to tip his waitress a five higher than usual. It was only five dollars. He could easily win it back in another gambling ruse of his. The older Winchester hadn't bothered to get comfy and remove his leather jacket. He had business to attend to. He rose from his chair and briefly stretched, cricking his neck to get out those last few kinks from a nightly overture of slumber. Settling back down, Dean turned the pad over to the register with his cash tucked in the pocket, then he departed.

"Have a good day, sir," the woman's voice harkened delightfully. Dean slid a "Yeah, you too," her way, before exiting. It wouldn't be the last time he heard those words, but every time he heard them he felt a pinch because for someone like him, good days were as rare as a blue moon.

Dean's keys jangled as he fiddled to unlock his car door. He didn't always lock his doors, but for whatever reason, he decided to play it safe this morning. He hummed to "Knocking On Heaven's Door", before something caught his eye and stopped him mid-chorus. He barely saw it, but it stood out enough to make him look twice. A splash of beige. Now, Dean Winchester had been around Castiel long enough to say that the man (or angel, rather) desperately needed a change of clothes. But this was a blessing in disguise. If it hadn't been for that old dirty trench coat, Dean would have been on his way and unknowingly experienced a near-miss that was more crucial than he realized at that moment. Dean stood and stared, squinting against the mid-morning sunlight. His feet began to move almost involuntarily, and Dean was drawn to that beige splotch in the portrait before him. His eyes never left it. His steps quickened into a light jog as he zeroed in, a hand shielding his eyes from the sun all the while. By God, he couldn't believe it.

"Cas?"


End file.
